


Word By Word

by Cobrilee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Baseball, Deputy Derek Hale, First Kiss, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Minor Angst, Referenced Stydia friendship, it's resolved quickly, skinwriting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10497243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: The first time Derek sees the words, he’s had a really shitty day. Laura was on his case again, all in the name of sisterly love, of course, and Cora was wielding her usual acerbic wit like a rapier. He’d gotten to the scene of a shooting too late and the victim had died before Derek could call for an ambulance. His Camaro had gotten a flat and while he was attempting to change the tire on the side of the road, someone drove by and sent a wave of muddy water arcing, drenching him, and he was cold, muddy, and miserable.Then, as he was sliding into the front seat after toweling off as best as he could, he felt something prickling on his arm and glanced down. Shaky, thin lines began appearing, little by little, and he could do no more than stare as the infamous phrase formed on his arm.Are you 18?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leslie_Knope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leslie_Knope/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Слово за слово](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11596005) by [gutentag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutentag/pseuds/gutentag)



> This was a WIP that had been languishing for months when the lovely Leslie_Knope won a 10k fic from me in the Fandom Trumps Hate auction. She read the first bit of this to give me feedback, loved it, and asked for me to finish it as her winning prize. I'm so glad she did, because otherwise I'm not sure I would have ever gotten to this point with it!

The first time Derek sees the words, he’s had a really shitty day. Laura was on his case again, all in the name of sisterly love, of course, and Cora was wielding her usual acerbic wit like a rapier. He’d gotten to the scene of a shooting too late and the victim had died before Derek could call for an ambulance. His Camaro had gotten a flat and while he was attempting to change the tire on the side of the road, someone drove by and sent a wave of muddy water arcing, drenching him, and he was cold, muddy, and miserable.

Then, as he was sliding into the front seat after toweling off as best as he could, he felt something prickling on his arm and glanced down. Shaky, thin lines began appearing, little by little, and he could do no more than stare as the infamous phrase formed on his arm.

_ Are you 18? _

They weren’t the mandated first words, of course, but it had become generally accepted over generations. Soulmate skin-writing only appeared once you were eighteen, so someone, decades and decades and decades ago, had thought to write the question on his or her arm, anticipating that if there was no response, their soulmate wasn’t yet eighteen. If they were, of course, they would be able to answer. It was simple and effective, and it had been adopted by the majority of individuals over the years. Derek himself had used it, once a year on his birthday, kind of as a check-in. There was always the chance that his soulmate was eighteen but didn’t want to reveal him or herself for whatever reason, so he tried again annually and then left it alone.

Now, at the age of twenty-four, he had almost given up on his soulmate ever contacting him. He hadn’t imagined his soulmate would be so much younger than he was, but the sight of those long-awaited words kept him from caring. He was legal. That was the whole reason soulmates couldn’t skin-write until they were eighteen. 

Glancing around, Derek’s heart sank when he realized he didn’t have a pen on him. There was a stubby pencil in his glove compartment, but the soft graphite wouldn’t have near the necessary force to mark his own skin.

Determinedly, Derek cranked the ignition, threw the Camaro in gear, and raced home. To hell with possibly getting a speeding ticket. He’d been waiting more than six years for this moment and shitty traffic wasn’t going to keep him from talking to the person he was meant to spend the rest of his life with.

The second he could get his hand on a pen (who gives a fuck if it's pink, Cora? It's a pen), he scrawled,  **_24, actually. And happy birthday._ **

The answer was immediate.  _ How did you - oh. Yeah. Thanks! :) _ and Derek couldn't stop the idiotic grin. Cora huffed and rolled her eyes and stomped away. 

Then he was staring down at his arm, waiting for more words to appear, and when they didn’t, he realized it was his turn. And he realized the fundamental problem with this whole skin-writing thing.

He  _ sucked _ at using words. Like, seriously sucked.

**_Um._ **

_ LOL (Literally, I’m laughing.) This is a lot easier in theory than in practice, right? _

**_Yeah._ **

_ Please don’t tell me you’re going to communicate in single-word sentences forever. I mean, I can talk more than enough to carry on the conversation for both of us, but my hand’s going to get really fucking tired, really fucking fast. Not that I’m not used to that. Oh God. Shit, I can’t believe I started talking about masturbation in my first conversation with my soulmate. I’m such a fucking dumbass sometimes. Fuck, cussing doesn’t bother you, does it? Because I cuss like it’s my first language. _

Derek laughed, a full-bodied chuckle that went straight to his toes.  **_Fuck no. How the hell did you write so much so fast?_ **

_ It’s a gift. You should hear me talk. My tongue moves so fast it’s like a dangerous weapon. _

**_Um._ **

_ Oh shit, I didn’t mean to sound all, y’know, dirty. _

**_I don’t mind._ **

_ You don’t? _

Derek flushed, feeling stupid because it wasn’t like his soulmate could see him. Feeling brave, and knowing he’d always been able to express himself best through his art instead of his words, he sketched out a quick drawing of an anonymous face lowering between his own thighs, the hair trailing off at a point where it could be short, or long but unseen. He suspected his soulmate was male, based on the comment about tired hands, but he didn’t want to completely assume.  **_Does that answer your question?_ **

Nervously, he waited for a response. His soulmate’s innuendo seemed to be accidental, but this was deliberate. He could very well have pushed things too far, too fast, and really offended or pissed off his soulmate.

_ Holy fuck, dude. (I’m assuming dude because dick, but, like, I wouldn’t have anything against you being a trans woman who hasn’t had surgery.)  _

**_Nope. Born male, staying male._ **

_ Cool, cool. So, uh, we’re already-what is this, sexting? Sexsking? I’m not used to moving this fast. Or moving at all, really. _

**_We can do whatever you’re comfortable with._ **

_ Could we, like, not do the name thing for awhile, then? I want to meet you, to talk to you and get to know you for real, but I kinda want you to get used to my personality before we do. Just so you’re not disappointed. _

**_I could never be disappointed in you. The universe decided you’re mine and I’m yours, so whoever you are, you’ll be everything I could want._ **

_ Huh. Yeah, yeah, okay. I like this way better than the single-word sentences. _

**_Me too._ **

_ So where are you from? _

**_Beacon Hills, California._ **

_ Um. Fuck. _

**_Let me guess, you’re on the East Coast?_ **

_ Not exactly… We might have to hold back on more than just the names for awhile. _

**_Why?_ **

_ Because I’m from Beacon Hills, too. _

**_Are you kidding? Why don’t you want me to know who you are?_ **

_ Because I’ve been told I’m a royal pain in the ass and I want you to be solidly in love with me before you have to put up with my spasticness. _

**_I’m pretty sure that isn’t going to be an issue._ **

_ I’m so glad you can’t see me blushing. _

**_I’m sad I can’t. I’m going to make it my mission to make you blush._ **

_ Annnnnnyway. You said you’re 24, right? You must have an adult job. What do you do? _

**_Hmm. I could tell you, but that would make it incredibly easy for you to figure out who I am. If I can’t know who you are, why should you get to know who I am?_ **

_ Unfair. _

**_Fair._ **

_ What if I wanted to try to seduce you without you knowing it? _

**_First off, if some 18yo suddenly started trying to seduce me, it would be a dead giveaway. Second, even if I was oblivious, it wouldn’t work because I’m not interested in anyone but my soulmate._ **

_ Dude. You realize that makes no sense, right? _

**_If I randomly got hit on by someone I wouldn’t do anything about it, no matter how attractive or funny or interesting they were, is all I’m saying._ **

_ Good answer. _

\-----

Derek felt himself falling more and more for his soulmate as the days went on. They could converse for hours, stopping only when their hands got cramped, eagerly resuming as soon as they felt better. Derek installed a small lamp on his nightstand so he could see M’s (the only indication of his real name that he’d allowed Derek) random thoughts at two am, and he doodled little images on the back of his hand. He’d learned that M had spiky brown hair and full lips, so he found himself leaning towards drawing M on himself on a regular basis.

M had complained once, telling him it was weird having drawings of himself on his arms and hands. He’d asked for drawings of Derek instead, but he’d said no, just to be a tease. He knew the eyebrows and facial hair would be a dead giveaway if M ever ran into him in the grocery store or the movie theater or wherever. M had whined, but Derek was standing firm. Until M was willing to identify himself, Derek wasn’t letting M get even a hint of his soulmate’s identity.

Even his family could see the changes in him. At their Sunday night family dinner, two weeks after meeting M, Cora made a face at him. “You’re happy all the time lately. You’re always smiling. It’s gross, stop it.”

Talia had just laughed. “Cora dear, your brother has been waiting over six years to find his soulmate. Be nice to him.”

Laura had beamed like a proud mama. “My little Der-bear is growing up.”

Derek had mostly blushed a lot and tried to change the subject, and his family had laughed and teased him and Cora pretended to vomit into her plate when Laura remarked that maybe they’d be adding to the family soon, with a not-so-subtle wink that Derek interpreted to mean nieces and nephews, and, well, yes. He wanted that so much. Family had always been huge to him, and he wanted a family of his own. It might have to wait a few years, until M was old enough to be ready for that, but he was a patient man.

It didn’t mean it didn’t drive him crazy that M kept putting off meeting. He didn’t know how to be any more reassuring that M was the only person he wanted, but M was still anxious. Someone had done a number on him when he was younger, several someones more than likely, and it made Derek angry that anyone had ever made M feel like he was unlovable, unworthy.

**_I want to take you on a date._ **

_ I know, D, I know. Someday. _

**_Someday soon?_ **

_ We’ll see. _

**_Don’t you trust me?_ **

_ I trust what you think you feel. But meeting in person is the only way to test that out, and I’m not ready to face rejection if you don’t like the person who’s standing right in front of you. _

It frustrated him beyond words. Not M’s feelings, never that, but that he was unable to convey the depth of his own feelings. It had only been a month and he knew he and M were going to grow old together, but he was starting to wonder if they were going to grow old while writing on themselves. He wondered if he’d meet M before his brown hair turned gray, before his full lips deflated and wrinkled, before Derek was retired from the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department.

\-----

He and M had been talking for three weeks the day he met Stiles, and he cursed himself for his comment that first day, when he'd said it didn't matter how attractive or funny or interesting someone was, he wouldn’t want them. 

Stiles tested him. Sorely.

“Ahh, deputy, I see you've met my son.”

“Son?” Derek parroted, looking away from the charming smirk and the eyes glinting with mischief. Sheriff Stilinski was studying Stiles with what appeared to be a warning expression. “I didn't realize you had a son.”

“That's because you've only been working here for eight months, three of which were at the Academy in Sacramento,” he said dryly. “I banned Stiles from setting foot in this place almost a year ago.”

“Only because you knew you couldn't sneak fast food and red meat into your diet otherwise,” Stiles grumbled, and Derek watched in amusement as father and son faced off. 

“You know it was because you'd started sticking your nose too far into our cases,” the Sheriff reminded him. He glanced at Derek. “My son is determined to be a deputy when he turns twenty-one, and he thought he'd get started on solving cases when he was still sixteen.”

Derek smiled at Stiles. “I'm sure he'll be a welcome addition to the Sheriff's Department,” he said graciously, and the Sheriff snorted caustically as Stiles beamed. 

“Don't encourage him.”

“Dad!” Stiles whined, rolling his eyes in a very obviously over-the-top way. “You’re making me look bad in front of the hot deputy!”

Derek fought not to react as the Sheriff closed his eyes, shook his head, and groaned. “Stiles, my department is not a feeding ground for your love life.”

“I have a soulmate!” he sniffed, visibly affronted. Derek was both relieved and disappointed. “It doesn’t mean I’m dead. I can still appreciate very attractive people.”

“Don’t you have someplace to be?” John asked pointedly.

Stiles shrugged, clearly unconcerned with whatever his plans were. “I promised Lydia I’d take her shopping, but as my role is to replace Jackson as her beast of burden, aka the holder of the shopping bags, you can see why I’m not in a hurry to go.” Punctuating the statement with a melodramatic sigh, he added, “Although I would like my head to remain attached to my body, so I should probably attend the lovely lady at her convenience.” 

“It was nice to meet you,” Derek offered, and Stiles winked, which did  _ not _ do funny things to his stomach, he was a soulmated man, he was  _ not _ going to get an inappropriate crush on his boss’ son.

“Likewise,” he returned easily. “Now that I know you work here, I’m going to be bringing my dad lunch more often.” The Sheriff opened his mouth to object, so Stiles cut in with a long-suffering, “To flirt, Dad, not to look at your precious case files.” 

John sighed in exasperation. “Get out of here, Stiles, we have actual work to do,” he scolded, but Derek could clearly see that fondness outweighed the exasperation.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Stiles promised, holding his hands up in surrender. “See you at home, Dad. Derek,” he acknowledged, tipping his chin up before pivoting and sauntering out of the front door.

“Your son is interesting,” Derek remarked, eyes still glued to Stiles’ retreating form.

“That doesn’t even come close to describing Stiles,” John remarked dryly, shaking his head. They stood in silence a moment before he shifted back into Cop Mode, slapping a file down in front of Derek. “Okay, back to work. Have you gotten the lab results back on the Yoi homicide?”

\-----

It was later that night when Derek got the shock of his life. 

_ Dude, I met the coolest guy today. _

**_Should I be jealous?_ **

_ Maybe? He’s hot as fuck and seems to be really nice. The downside is, he works for my dad. _

Derek stiffened, eyes widening. There was no way...  **_Your dad?_ **

_ Yeah, I’m not telling you any more than that. If I told you who my dad is, you’d be able to find out who I am in about three seconds. _

**_Your dad is that well-known?_ **

_ Let’s just say he’s a name that every person in this town would recognize. _

Derek would bet a  _ lot _ of money it was because he was the town sheriff.  **_So tell me more about the guy._ **

_ Before I do, you have to know I was joking about maybe being jealous. He’s hot, yes, but you’re my soulmate. I even made sure he knew that. Not that he would want to ask me out or anything, but I cut off that train of thought just in case. _

**_Stop putting yourself down, M._ ** Writing that gave him pause. Stiles wouldn’t be a nickname for a name that started with M, would it? Maybe M  _ was _ the nickname?  **_I don’t understand why you think nobody could want you._ **

_ Because nobody ever has. Can we not talk about this anymore? _

Derek immediately froze. It was rare that M was short-tempered, especially considering it had to be pretty severe before he could convey it in writing, so the obvious frustration had Derek twisted up with guilt.  **_Of course. Did you still want to tell me about the guy, or move on to something else?_ **

His heart pounded when there was absolute silence for several minutes. When the words finally started again, it was pounding for an entirely different reason.  _ He’s only an inch or two taller than me, so he’d probably be around 6’. Black hair, equally black eyebrows, and these eyes that defy conventional color naming. His smile is gorgeous, but he’s got these adorable bunny teeth that mean he’s not, like, completely perfect. _

His hand unconsciously came up to cover his mouth, his index finger pressing his lip into the teeth in question. Stiles was M.  **_Are you sure I don’t have anything to worry about? Sounds like you’re pretty infatuated with this guy._ **

_ Look, D, I can appreciate superhumanly attractive people without acting on it. Lydia might tell you otherwise, but I can look without touching. _

**_Lydia Martin? Mrs. Martin’s daughter?_** She’d been in middle school still when Derek graduated from high school, but he’d seen her with Mrs. Martin at some of the school events. Which would make sense, considering Stiles had just turned eighteen. Lydia would have been in his grade, or a year off. And Stiles had mentioned going shopping with a Lydia earlier.

_ Yeah, but I didn’t run in her social circle, so don’t think you’re going to be able to identify me based on who she’s friends with. _

**_Why are you so determined for me to not know who you are? I thought the point of a soulmate was that they’re meant for you, so that we each have someone who loves us without fail. Why don’t you want to take advantage of that?_ **

_ I do, okay? I really, really want to meet you, but I’m not ready. I haven’t had even a little bit of success in my past romantic endeavors, and even though logically I know you’ll be different, my heart is still putting on the brakes.  _

**_I understand, M. It’s okay. Take all the time you need; I’ll wait._ **

And he would. Because his new knowledge gave him an advantage-he knew who M was, and now he had the ability to flirt with him, make it clear that he was  _ incredibly _ interested. Hopefully it would either give Stiles the confidence to identify himself to Derek, or when it inevitably came out that Derek had always known Stiles was M, Stiles would finally realize that his soul mate was crazy about him.

\-----

Derek got his first opportunity two days later. He was heading toward the Sheriff’s office to run some evidence and his newest theory on a case by him, and when he glanced up from the file, he saw that Stiles was the only occupant of the office.

“Hey, Stiles,” he greeted him, giving him one of his brighter smiles. He allowed his gaze to skim down Stiles’ body, not in a leering way, but in a quick assessment. Derek hoped that his blatant approval was evident on his face. Seriously, he couldn’t begin to understand how Stiles had been unwanted and single for so long that his self-esteem had taken such a major hit. The man standing in front of him was easily one of the most attractive people he’d ever seen.

“Deputy Dreamboat!” Stiles returned, grinning easily. Derek was already aware of Stiles being a natural flirt, but seeing it in person was markedly different. His soulmate exuded confidence as he reclined against his father’s desk, ass perched on the edge with his palms pressed flat beside his thighs, fingertips hooked over the lip. There was a cocky, smirky grin on his lips as he assessed Derek in return. “If I didn’t already have a soulmate, I’d be trying to convince you to surrender to my many charms.”

“Maybe I already have,” Derek purred back, and he could see the moment the confidence faltered. Stiles pulled back a little, his face going cautious and confused, and Derek felt sick when he came to the realization that Stiles was so easily confident because it was confidence that his flirting would fail. There was no risk because no one ever returned his interest, so he could just have fun with it. Derek’s unexpected response had thrown him off. Reigning his obvious interest in, Derek tried again. “I mean, you’re smart, and you’re funny. I think I’d like hanging out with you.”

The tactic worked; Stiles relaxed a little and his grin was more open this time, more genuine. “Yeah? I could say the same thing about you.”

“You think your soulmate would mind if I took you to a baseball game?” he asked, striving for casual, and when Stiles looked torn, he added, “I’m not trying to ask you out, I wouldn’t do that.”

Stiles bit his lower lip, and Derek couldn’t help it, his gaze was drawn to it. Stiles caught the look and the side of his lip that wasn’t currently caught between his teeth curved upward slightly. “I think so,” he admitted finally. “We’re kind of in a weird place right now, but he’s a really patient and understanding guy. I know that he wouldn’t ask me not to make new friends, even if those friends are of my preferred gender and are really, really fucking gorgeous.”

Derek felt a flash of jealousy that surprised him. He knew Stiles wasn’t going to be “cheating” on him, but Stiles didn’t know that he wasn’t opening himself up to emotional infidelity. There wasn’t technically a rule surrounding soulmates and dating other people, but it was generally frowned upon. It was expected that once you were in contact with your soulmate, it was as good as an engagement. 

Reminding himself of Stiles’ inexperience, and that the whole point of this was to boost his ego and make him feel wanted and desired, Derek pushed away the jealousy and smiled, putting as much charm into it as possible. “He might protest if he knew the friend you’re making thinks you’re just as gorgeous,” he teased gently, and he watched with both affection and dismay as Stiles flushed and dropped his gaze to stare at his shoes.

“Just so you know, this isn’t going to work if you don’t stop teasing me,” he mumbled, and Derek frowned.

“I just call them like I see them,” he countered, trying to keep his tone light. “For some reason  _ you _ don’t seem to see it, but you’re a pretty amazing guy, Stiles. I’m fortunate to get to steal even a small amount of time from your soulmate, who’s definitely the lucky one.”

Stiles looked like he wanted to dispute Derek’s statement, but before he could, the Sheriff poked his head in the office. “Tina said you wanted to-oh, hey Stiles. I’ll be ready to leave in a few minutes. Derek, Tina said you needed to talk to me?”

“Yes,” Derek replied, having forgotten for a few minutes that he was at work and there was a reason he was in his boss’ office. “The Yoi file. I have an idea that might be worth following up on.”

“I’m sure it is.” He rubbed a hand over his weary face. “Stiles, would you mind waiting for me at the front desk? As soon as I’m done with Derek, we’ll head out.”

“Sure thing, Dad.” Stiles flicked a glance at Derek. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”

Derek nodded, giving Stiles a private smile once his father had taken a seat at the desk behind him. “Why don’t you swing by in a couple days, we’ll figure out the timing for that game?”

Stiles bobbed his head and waved awkwardly before backing out of the office. When Derek turned to face his boss, he found the other man eyeing him shrewdly. “Anything I need to know about you and my son, Deputy?” he questioned, and though the tone was mild, his eyes were sharp.

_ Yes, we’re soulmates.  _ “Nothing, really,” he lied, feeling a small twinge of guilt. “I just asked if he wanted to catch a baseball game with me sometime. None of my friends like to watch, and the last time I dragged my younger sister, she complained for nine whole innings. Stiles mentioned being a fan.”

John relaxed, sinking back into his chair and nodding. “Fair enough. Now why don’t you tell me about this idea of yours.”

\-----

_ So the guy I was telling you about asked me to hang out, at a baseball game. Would that bother you? _

**_I can’t say I’m thrilled that you’d rather hang out with a guy you’ve been drooling over instead of me, but I would never tell you not to spend time with someone you wanted to spend time with._ **

_ I don’t deserve you, seriously.  _

**_You probably don’t, but you’re stuck with me anyway. ;)_ **

_ That’s not what I meant and you know it, smartass. _

**_I know it’s not, but I want you to believe you deserve everything good in this world._ **

_ I should not be this embarrassed and blushy while alone in my own room. Stahp. _

**_I will, but only because I don’t want you to go silent on me._ **

_ Dude, I don’t think that’s even possible. _

**_I’m looking forward to hearing everything you have to say. Hearing, not reading._ **

_ I’m getting there, okay? _

**_Because this gorgeous guy likes you and wants to spend time with you?_ **

_ Maybe? But he’s not you. As attractive as he is, he’s not the one I want. And BTW, I wouldn’t rather spend time with him than you, but there’s no pressure with him. I can flirt all I want and it doesn’t mean anything. It’s kind of like practice, I guess?  _

**_I don’t know how many times I have to tell you until you believe it, but you don’t have to “get ready” to meet me. You don’t have to be perfect, or smooth, or charming. I just want you to be you. I want you to be the person I’m lucky enough to get to spend every day of my life with._ **

_ You don’t need me to be smooth and charming because you already have those qualities in spades, JFC.  _

**_Just being honest, M. I’m already crazy about you._ **

_ The feeling is mutual, D. Just give me a little more time, okay? _

**_I’ll give you all the time you need. You’re worth waiting for._ **

\-----

“Hey, Derek!”

Derek looked up, smiling when he caught sight of Stiles waving at him from the blue Jeep he was climbing out of. He bit back a chuckle when Stiles’ toe caught on the lower edge of the door frame and he all but fell out of the vehicle.

Instinct had him wanting to rush over to make sure Stiles wasn’t hurt, but a desire not to give himself away slowed his steps. “You okay?” he asked, letting the amusement creep into his voice as he approached.

“The only thing damaged is my toe... and my pride,” Stiles responded ruefully, and Derek let the chuckle escape. 

“I’m pretty sure that both will heal,” he teased, reaching out to put his hand on Stiles’ lower back. He caught himself just before making contact, letting his hand hover awkwardly while he tried to figure out what to do. He was dying to touch Stiles, to take his hand or wrap his arm around the younger man’s shoulders, but it wasn’t appropriate for two men who were “just friends”. Scaring Stiles away would be the exact opposite of what he hoped to accomplish. After another moment of hesitation, he dropped his arm and stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

Stiles apparently hadn’t noticed a thing. He was staring up at the crowd ahead of them, waiting to get past the ticket-takers into AT&T Park, and his eyes were shining so brightly that Derek’s heart stuttered and then thudded faster in his chest. It was such a simple thing, but Stiles’ obvious pleasure at being there touched Derek in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

There was another moment of uncertainty as they made their way in to find their seats, bypassing the lines for food and memorabilia. It wasn’t supposed to be a date, no matter how much Derek wanted it to be, so he had to tamp down his desire to buy Stiles every single thing he so much as glanced at with interest. 

As the settled into their seats, Stiles gazed over at him with an expression that Derek couldn’t read. “Thanks for inviting me along.”

“Absolutely,” Derek replied, focusing his attention on the players who were jogging onto the field. He’d much rather look at Stiles, but he was starting to realize that it would be more difficult than he thought to act as if he were unaffected. His soulmate was sitting right next to him and had no clue. Derek wanted to simultaneously shake him and kiss him. “It’s better than coming by myself.” Which was an innuendo he had  _ not _ meant to make, but it wouldn’t hurt to get Stiles thinking along those lines.

It was evident Stiles caught the double meaning, because he coughed a little and swiped a hand over his mouth, in what appeared to be an effort at wiping his smirk away. “You didn’t have any other friends or family who’d want to come with you?”

Derek shook his head. “My sisters hate baseball, my parents had work, and my friends Erica, Boyd, and Isaac had plans already. And they also hate baseball.” It was a relief to finally be able to talk to Stiles about the people in his life. He’d mentioned his sisters and his friends before, of course, but he’d never given names or any real details. Since M wasn’t willing to identify himself, Derek was serious about not letting M be able to figure out who Derek was.

Which was ironic, considering that now Derek was the one who’d identified M while having his own identity remain a secret. That wasn’t his fault, though-it wasn’t like he’d gone looking for M and found Stiles. Stiles had stumbled his way into Derek’s life on two fronts.

“It’s good thing you have me, then,” Stiles returned easily, eyes roaming the field and taking in everything. “I haven’t been to a baseball game in forever, so I’m super stoked.”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing I have you,” Derek murmured fondly; luckily, Stiles didn’t appear to hear him. The players were taking their position on the field to warm up, and he was hunching forward, his whole body straining toward the action. “Hey, are you hungry?”

“What?” Stiles asked distractedly, then glanced over at him. “Yeah, sure. You going to the concession stand?”

Derek stood. “Yeah. Hot dogs and nachos are practically a requirement at a baseball game. I’ll grab something for both of us and be right back.”

Stiles waved a thanks at him as he refocused on the players, and Derek grinned a little as he headed up to the top of the stands. They were right behind the dugout and the hike gave him some time to think.

It was clear to him that he was going to give himself away at some point, probably sooner rather than later. He wanted to touch Stiles, to hold him and kiss him and study every inch of his face. He wanted to memorize every mole, every eyelash. He wanted to learn the difference between each of his smiles. He couldn’t do any of it without either spilling the beans or making Stiles very uncomfortable.

By the time he’d purchased two hot dogs, two trays of nachos, two sodas, two Giants hats, and a great big orange foam finger, he still hadn’t figured out what to do next.

“What the hell?” Stiles sputtered when Derek returned with his bounty. “You didn’t have to buy me all this.”

He shrugged. “I figured I should make today worth your time.”

Stiles stared down at his lap and frowned. “This isn’t a date, Derek. I have a soulmate.”

Derek couldn’t deny the flutter that raced through him at the realization that no matter how attracted Stiles was to him, he wasn’t going to betray D. “I know, Stiles. I’m not trying to get you to cheat on him, I just enjoy spending time with you. I like doing things for the people who matter to me.”

Stiles reluctantly took the food and settled the ballcap on his head. “It feels wrong to let you do this, but I can’t figure out how to say no without sounding like an ungrateful jerk.”

Chuckling, Derek settled back into his seat. “Don’t say no, and we’ll say I’ve learned my lesson. Next time, no gifts.”

“I don’t think there’s going to be a next time,” Stiles mumbled, but Derek caught it and was torn between being frustrated and pleased. He hated the idea of missing out on opportunities to spend time with Stiles, but he was also grateful that Stiles recognized the temptation being presented to him and was choosing to reject it.

The rest of the game was spent in relative silence, at least between the two of them. Stiles was vocally into the game and screamed himself hoarse at every exciting play, but he was resolutely ignoring Derek for the most part. He tensed the one time Derek put his hand on his arm, and Derek respectfully withdrew and didn’t press the issue.

At the bottom of the seventh inning, Derek excused himself to “take a bathroom break”. He jogged up several rows before sliding into an empty seat, one with a good view of Stiles, and pulled a pen out of his pocket. 

**_Having fun at the game?_ **

_ Sort of. The game is great, but I think Derek is trying to hit on me. He says he’s not, but… _

**_Are you okay?_ **

_ I can handle it. He’s not a bad guy, but I think he’s getting the wrong idea. He knows I have a soulmate, but since I’ve never met you, I think he doesn’t realize how much you mean to me.  _

Derek couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face. He drew a quick sketch of himself hugging Stiles, being careful not to get too detailed for either of them.  **_I’m here if you need me. I can be at AT &T Park in less than ten minutes._ **

_ I’m good, really. But thanks, D. I’m lucky to have you. _

**_I feel the same, M. Talk to you later._ **

He waited several more minutes before easing out of the seat and making his way back down to where Stiles was sitting. “Did I miss anything exciting?”

Stiles looked up at him, smiling for a brief moment. “Nope, couple of singles, one out. We’re at one strike, two balls for this hitter,” he added, pointing out the player who was up at bat. It was one of the newer guys, someone who hadn’t made much of an impression on Derek, so he flicked a glance at the field and then brought his attention back to Stiles. 

“Do you want to stay for the rest of the game?” Derek asked, hesitant because he was afraid Stiles disliked being around him enough that he wanted to leave, but wanting to make sure he knew he had that option. “Or would you rather leave?”

“Dude, no way. The game is great.” He offered a lopsided smile. “I know I’ve been kinda quiet, but I’m not, like, uncomfortable with you or anything. I just need to know you’re not going to try to push me for something. I’m crazy about my soulmate, even if things are a little awkward between us right now.”

Derek was ready to press about that, to ask why it was so awkward in the hopes that Stiles would start to talk through his issues, when something in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Before either of them even fully registered what was happening, Derek whipped around to catch the foul ball that was hurtling toward Stiles’ head. The ball smacked into his open hand and he grimaced, the sting singing its way through his palm and up into his elbow, but he maintained a firm grip on it until Stiles flopped back in his seat, eyes wide.

“Holy shit, dude, that thing about busted my skull open. Thank you for catching it.” Stiles was breathless, and the sound of it had Derek breathing a little less steady himself.

“You’re welcome. Your soulmate would never let you hang out with me again if I let you get hurt,” he murmured, and Stiles shot him a pointed stare.

“My soulmate doesn’t dictate who I spend time with. I do,” he insisted, his gaze flickering down to the ball Derek still held. 

Derek handed it to him. “Here. You keep this.” 

Stiles looked like he wanted to object, but he sighed and nodded, clutching the ball tightly. Derek shifted until he was facing forward again and watched in relative silence until the game was over. They won, fortunately, and Stiles was on his feet, yelling and cheering until he almost didn’t have a voice left.

He chattered excitedly on their way back out to the parking lot, flowing like water along with the rest of the crowd. When they reached the Camaro, Derek paused with his hand on the door handle.

“Thanks for coming with me.” He hated how stilted his voice sounded.

Stiles smiled hesitantly. “I had fun.” It was clearly a lie, but Derek didn’t know how to come back from it, so he watched in frustration as Stiles waved awkwardly and strolled over to his Jeep. Once Stiles was inside and he heard the thing rumble to life, he yanked open the door to the Camaro, sank into the driver’s seat, and dropped his head to the steering wheel. 

He’d wanted to boost Stiles’ ego. He’d wanted him to experience being the object of someone’s blatant interest, especially someone he found attractive himself. He’d wanted Stiles to feel good about himself, enough that he would have the courage to identify himself to his soulmate.

Instead, Derek was pretty sure he’d just guaranteed Stiles saw him as a creepy, pushy jerk who didn’t respect his boundaries or the fact that he had a soulmate. He was afraid that when Stiles found out the truth, he wouldn’t want Derek to be his soulmate.

What would he do if he lost Stiles before he ever had him?

\-----

Derek didn’t see Stiles again for several days, but he took those days to sort through a plan of attack, and to spend some real quality time talking to him. It felt like they were getting closer, flirtier if possible, and Derek both thrived on it and felt constrained by it. He worried that the longer they went without meeting each other, the more comfortable Stiles would be with the status quo.

Four days after the game, things finally came to a head.

**_What are you up to today?_ **

_ NM, I have a few errands to run and then I’m going to the station to take my dad lunch. _

Derek swallowed roughly. He was going to see Stiles again today, which meant he needed to figure out pretty much  _ now _ how he wanted to play this.

**_Think you’ll see Derek?_ **

_ Probably, unless it’s his day off. Why, you jealous? ;) _

**_Not at all. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable seeing him. I know the baseball game didn’t end so well._ **

There was a pause, which Derek attributed to Stiles trying to gather his thoughts. He’d learned that they can be quite chaotic. When no words appeared for several minutes, Derek started to wonder if maybe Stiles felt like he was being pushed.

**_Maybe it’s not my place to feel protective over you yet…_ **

_ Dude, no, that’s not it at all. I just don’t know really how to categorize my thoughts on Derek. _

**_How so?_ **

_ Like, he’s honestly a really nice guy. He knows about you and verbally, at least, he’s respectful, says he’s not trying to push me for anything. I really appreciate that. But, IDK, the way he looks at me… I’ve never seen that look in someone’s eyes before. Not when they look at me, at least. _

A fierce, burning ache flared in Derek’s chest. He fucking  _ hated _ that Stiles didn’t know that feeling, of being looked at like he’s something, some _ one _ , beautiful and precious and worthy of love and adoration. He wanted to have the right to give Stiles that look at all times. 

He had to end this.

**_I can’t fault this guy for looking at you that way. I would too, if I could. At least I know he has good taste._ **

_ You would, wouldn’t you? It’s not just words for you. That’s really how you feel, even though you’ve never met me, never seen me. You already know you love me. _

**_Unequivocally. I don’t care what you think your flaws are, M. I already know you’re everything I could possibly want in a partner. I just want you to believe it, too. I want you to stop being scared of not being enough for me, because in my eyes, there will never be anyone more “enough” for me than you._ **

_ Jesus, D.  _

**_Will you meet me today? Please? If we don’t meet soon, you’re going to keep coming up with reasons why we shouldn’t, and you’ll be so wrapped up in your fears that I won’t want you once I know who you are that you’ll never find out for sure. I could never stop wanting you, but even if I did, wouldn’t it be better for both of us to find out now?_ **

There was silence again, and Derek was both expecting it and on the knife-edge of anxiety as he waited for Stiles’ response.

_ You’re right. I have to stop dragging this out. It’s unfair to both of us. _

He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling all the tension leech from his shoulders.  **_Where would you be most comfortable? And what time? I need it to be after my shift ends, which is at 5:30, but any time after that is fine with me._ **

_ Let’s say 6:30, then, at the fountains in front of the theater.  _

**_Perfect. Then I can take you to a movie after, for our first official date._ **

_ I eat popcorn with lots of butter and salt, just so you know. _

**_I thought you were a big health nut?_ **

_ Hah, no. That’s only for my dad, I want to make sure he lives a long life and doesn’t keel over from a stress-induced heart attack because his arteries are blocked. _

**_Maybe I want to make sure_ ** **you** **_live a long life, too. That fake butter and salt isn’t any better for you than it is for your dad._ **

_ Yeah, but I’m an 18yo guy. I can live a little and take care of myself later. _

**_You better, or I’m going to take care of you_ ** **for** **_you._ **

_ Aww, maybe I like that plan better. _

**_It would involve making you get up at 5am to go jogging with me and drinking kale smoothies._ **

_ Yeesh. I take it back. Also, I’ll skip the popcorn. Never too early to start taking care of your health. _

**_Good call. See you at 6:30?_ **

_ Yeah, D. You will. _

\-----

Derek was keenly aware when Stiles entered the station, greeting the deputy at the desk and using various pens to drum on the polished surface while he waited for his father. He debated whether to go over and say hi, wait for Stiles to see him, or let him come and go without making any contact.

The decision was taken away when the Sheriff called over to him, “Deputy Hale, why don’t you come join us?”

Hesitantly, Derek rose to his feet and stepped away from his desk, falling into step with Stiles and the Sheriff as they headed back to his office. “I’m guessing that if I was in trouble, you wouldn’t be letting your son sit in on my disciplinary meeting,” he commented dryly, hoping it would prompt his boss to explain why he’d been summoned.

“Please,” Stiles snorted, “my dad would never allow me to be present for anything official. He still thinks he’s going to keep me from joining the department. Which is  _ a futile hope _ ,” he tacked on pointedly, frowning at his father.

The Sheriff stared back placidly, lips quirking slightly in amusement. “I think Deputy Hale could be a good influence on you,” he responded. “Hopefully a  _ calming _ one.”

“Just for that, I’m withholding your lunch,” Stiles grumbled, and Derek’s eyes flickered to his boss, feeling like he was watching a tennis tournament.

“I’m not sure that’s actually a punishment,” the Sheriff scoffed. “I’m assuming it’s either a salad or veggie burger anyway.”

Stiles sniffed, affronted. “It’s a  _ turkey _ burger, I’ll have you know,” he retorted. “And I even let them put balsamic vinaigrette on your salad!”

Derek muffled a snicker when his boss wrinkled his nose. “You mean that stuff that tastes like battery acid? Gee, I’m not sure how to thank you,” he muttered, and Stiles made a face.

“Sheriff?” All three men looked up as one of the deputies pushed his door open, looking around apologetically. “Mr. Whittemore is here and demanding to speak to you about the Yoi case.”

The Sheriff sighed as he stood, gesturing at Stiles and Derek to begin eating their meals. Stiles unloaded the rest of the bag and laid the food out over his father’s desk.

“It was nice of you to pick up lunch for me, too,” Derek said politely, hating the silence that had descended on the room.

Stiles shrugged. “I didn’t. I always just get a lot of food, and my dad knows it.” He stuffed a burger in his mouth, eyes flicking up to watch Derek warily.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Derek asked, striving for casual and failing miserably.

Stiles choked on his bite of burger and Derek smacked his back on instinct. When he could breathe again, Stiles gave him a bittersweet smirk. “I’m going home and having a panic attack for the next few hours, then I’m meeting my soulmate for some soul-crushing rejection and a movie.”

Raising an eyebrow, Derek searched for the words to respond to Stiles’ self-deprecation. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” he said finally, and Stiles made a face at him. “I mean it, Stiles. The more you tell yourself no one will want you, the more it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. This guy is your soulmate. Let him be your soulmate.”

Instead of retreating into wisecracking jokes or scoffing, Stiles’ shoulders dropped forward and he hunched in on himself. “I’m scared, Derek. He’s amazing, and I know he’s older than me, and I’m just a dorky kid who’s spent his entire life getting told he’s not good enough for anyone to be interested.”

“I think you’re fucking incredible,” Derek blurted out, and he couldn’t even curse his lack of smoothness when he saw the way Stiles lit up, blushed, and ducked away shyly, all at the same time. “If you didn’t have a soulmate, I would have tried to kiss you at the baseball game. I would have asked you out again afterward. I would have bought you every damn thing you wanted, I would have taken you out wherever you wanted to go. I would have done everything I could to make you understand just exactly how much I like you and how much I enjoy spending time with you, and how much I wanted to be the one to make you happy.”

He finished his speech with a harsh inhalation of breath, having rushed all the oxygen out of his lungs in his effort to get Stiles to see just how interested he was. Stiles stared at him, jaw dropping slightly open, cheeks a dusky red as he flushed in embarrassment and confusion. “Derek, I… I have no idea what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” Derek replied kindly. “I only told you because I want you to know there’s someone who thinks you’re amazing. When you’re anxious, or nervous, or think this guy can’t possibly be interested in you, remember what I just told you.”

“Thank you,” Stiles murmured, and Derek nodded, throat tightening around the bite he tried to swallow. Stiles opened his mouth again, but it was clear that he couldn’t find any words he wanted to say and he slowly shut it again, looking down at the burger he still held in his hands. Derek had to take a moment before he could try again to swallow. Ducking his head, he smiled in barely-disguised fondness. The rest of the day could  _ not _ go fast enough. 

\-----

Derek rubbed his hands against the thighs of his jeans, focusing on the way the denim felt as it abraded his palms. He was relieved as hell to finally be able to put the charade behind them, to not have to pretend anymore than he didn’t know M was Stiles, that Stiles was M, that he wasn’t Stiles’ soulmate. He was tired as fuck of pretending.

He was also terrified.

There was a chance, a good one, that Stiles would be angry. He’d known for too long without clueing Stiles in, he’d let Stiles flounder in his anxiety when he could have eased it with just a few simple words. Stiles might feel like he’d been toyed with, which wasn’t Derek’s intention at all, but it would be understandable if that was Stiles’ first, instinctive thought.

He checked his phone for the thousandth time in the last several minutes. It was 6:25, and he was torn between fear that Stiles wouldn’t show, anxiety that he  _ would _ show and be angry with Derek, and hope that he’d show and be relieved and understand what Derek was trying to accomplish. Mostly, he was just ready for whatever was going to happen, to happen.

“Derek?” Stiles’ voice startled him out of his thoughts. It was a mix between bafflement and suspicion as he approached the bench on which Derek sat. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting,” he answered carefully. 

Irritation flashed across his face. “If you tell me you were waiting for me, I’m going to have to have a strong talk with you about overstepping boundaries.”

“I was, but it’s not what you think,” Derek began, but Stiles’ huff of aggravation stopped him.

“I can only think of two possible reasons you’d be waiting for me, and both of them would completely piss me off,” Stiles snapped. “You’re either here to swoop in and play the hero when I get rejected, or you’re here because you think I need a grownup to watch out for me. Fuck off, either way.”

Derek shifted on the bench, clearly making enough room for Stiles in a wordless invitation to sit beside him. Stiles chewed on his lip for a solid thirty seconds before sinking down onto the rough wood, eyes darting around the semi-crowded theater front. “I’m not here for either of those reasons,” Derek admitted, but he fell silent again when Stiles swiped an impatient hand through his hair. Derek’s gaze lifted to the long-ish strands, wondering if he’d get the opportunity to run his own fingers through it. 

“Then why are you here?” he sighed after several seconds of silence. “I told my soulmate you’ve always been respectful of our relationship and haven’t tried to push me. Are you trying to make a liar out of me?”

Derek’s reply was instant. “No. I’ve never wanted to push you or make you uncomfortable. I’ve never wanted to place you in a difficult position. I just wanted you to know, to understand, that you’re not this unlovable, undesirable loser. I hated listening to you talk about yourself like that.”

“Trust me, I hated  _ living _ like that,” Stiles scoffed.

“I can’t even imagine,” Derek murmured, shaking his head. “It’s so inconceivable to me that no one ever fell head over heels in love with you.” Stiles stared at his lap, his cheeks pinking, and Derek began to panic as he struggled to find the words he needed to confess.

Sighing, Stiles glanced around again, a faint hint of desperation in his eyes as he failed to see anyone walking toward him with any kind of intent. “I hate to sound like an asshole, but I kind of need you to go. D might already be here and afraid to approach me because you’re here.”

“No one’s coming, Stiles,” Derek blurted out, and Stiles’ gaze snapped to his, eyes narrowing sharply. 

“Now how could you possibly know that?” he asked, suspicion coloring his tone. After a second, his eyes widened. “You know my soulmate, don’t you? He sent you to let me down easy.”

Derek blinked. “What? No.” In frustration, he shoved at his sleeves, which were starting to feel constricting. When the expanse of skin was bared he stared down at it, inspiration dawning. “Do you have a pen?”

Stiles looked at him like he was crazy, but dug a pen out of his back pocket. “Do I dare ask what you need a pen for?”

Instead of answering, Derek began frantically sketching on his arm. He had to make it detailed enough for Stiles to understand, but he couldn’t take the time to draw as nicely as he normally would. He concentrated on his drawing, afraid to look up and see the realization as it crept over Stiles’ face. When he was finished, he tugged his shirt sleeve down and handed the pen back.

“That was entirely random and bizarre,” Stiles informed him, but he froze immediately after, and Derek knew he was feeling the tell-tale itching on his own skin. He sat silently as Stiles yanked at his own plaid sleeve, watching in disbelief as the drawing of Derek and Stiles at AT&T Park bloomed on his arm. Stiles was in clear detail, the Giants hat on his head and foam finger on his hand, his face animated as he shouted at the team on the field. While he was unaware, Derek watched him with an expression of amused affection. 

Stiles collapsed back against the bench, lifting stunned eyes to Derek. “D?”

Derek nodded sheepishly. “Surprise.”

“How long have you known?” His voice was flat and Derek flinched. It wasn't the reaction of a man happy with what he'd just learned. 

“Since the day I met you at the sheriff’s office,” he confessed. Stiles nodded, taking in the information without letting his face betray how he felt about it. Derek waited, refusing to say a word as he let Stiles process everything, but the continued silence was nerve-wracking. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The abrupt question startled him, but he knew it shouldn’t have. He’d expected it to be Stiles’ first question, after all. “You told me so many times how you were worried you weren’t good enough for me, and that I wouldn’t want you. I wanted you to  _ know _ , without a doubt, how completely wrong you were. When you finally found out, I wanted you to have already been convinced that I’m head over heels crazy about you.” 

“You got what you wanted.” His tone was still dry, unemotional, and Derek was beginning to worry that Stiles wouldn’t forgive him for his silence. “I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not,” Derek countered firmly. “You couldn’t have known. I only figured it out so quickly because you told me about meeting me, as Derek. If I’d been the one to mention meeting someone new, you would have figured it out first.”

“Yeah, and then I would have  _ told _ you,” he retorted, voice sharp, and Derek’s gaze dropped to his lap, where his hands were twisted together. 

“I wasn’t the one who didn’t want to meet,” Derek reminded him tiredly. “I thought holding off would make you more comfortable, would make it easier when we finally did meet. I guess I was wrong.” He stood, heart sinking when Stiles didn’t protest him preparing to leave. “I’m sorry I messed up.” 

Stiles’ eyes tracked his movements as he took a step backward, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You just didn’t know me as well as you thought you did.”

Of all the things Stiles could have said, that was the one that hurt the most. They’d “talked” for hours at a time, nearly every day, for months. Derek had thought he’d known Stiles back and forth by then. Apparently he’d been wrong about a lot of things. 

With an ache in his chest, Derek started to turn away, to walk away from Stiles. He paused. “You remember that first night, the first conversation we had? When I told you that no matter who I met, no matter how funny or attractive they were, I wouldn’t be interested because they wouldn’t be my soulmate?” Stiles nodded, the reluctance obvious. “The day I met you, those words came back and bit me on the ass. I fell for you instantly, and I fell hard. I felt so damn guilty because I had told my soulmate I wouldn’t be interested in anyone, and here I was, interested in you.”

“How did you know I wasn’t your soulmate?” 

Derek shrugged. “I only knew my soulmate as M. You were introduced to me as Stiles.” He didn’t ask the question he was dying of curiosity over, how Stiles came up with the nickname M, and Stiles didn’t offer an answer. “I’ve been crazy about you from the start, Stiles. From the first time we exchanged words, to the first time I met you without even knowing who you were. You’re my soulmate. I couldn’t not be.”

“I felt the same,” Stiles replied, subdued, and Derek swallowed roughly.  _ Felt _ . Not  _ feel _ .

He turned on his heel and left.

\-----

The next day, Derek knew nothing but dread as he watched his boss approach him. “Hale, I’d like to see you in my office.”

“Oooh, you’re in trouble,” Tara teased, and he rolled his eyes at her as he fought back panic and nausea. “If you walk out with a white box, I’m staking my claim on that nice-ass chair of yours.”

“I’ll remove the castors before I let you have it,” he shot back, attempting playfulness while he wondered if he really was about to get fired. She gasped in mock-offense and he smirked, then took a deep breath and followed the Sheriff back to his office.

When the door was closed, the Sheriff gave him a look that was half-wary and half-constipated. “I hear that you’re Stiles’ soulmate.”

“Yes, sir.”

He sighed, wiping a hand down over his face. “I’m not going to let this change how I deal with you at work, you know. Current conversation notwithstanding.”

Derek blinked in surprise. “I never expected you would, sir. I’m your employee here, regardless of whether I end up being something else to you outside of work.”

“You mean my son-in-law, don’t you, Derek?” he asked with a lift of an eyebrow, and Derek swallowed. Son-in-law. Right. When cows sang the national anthem, maybe. “I know that things didn’t go so well yesterday.”

“That’s an understatement,” Derek muttered, and the Sheriff sighed. 

“Give him some time,” he suggested, with what Derek assumed was an attempt at gentleness but mostly just sounded gruff. “He hasn’t had the easiest time of it, romantically-speaking, and finding out you knew felt like a betrayal by the person he’s supposed to be able to trust the most.”

Derek cleared his throat. “Pardon me for saying so, sir, but maybe he wouldn’t appreciate you discussing this with me?”

The Sheriff made a face. “Of course he wouldn’t. But I’m his father, I’m not going to sit back and watch him ruin this because he’s stubborn. I have  _ some _ influence here, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

He couldn’t help it, he had to crack a small smile. “You don’t have to influence me to wait for Stiles. I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me, but I have no interest in giving up or moving on. I’ll wait as long as I need to.”

“Hell, son, from what Stiles told me, you didn’t do anything unforgivable. You were thoughtful and wanted to do what was best for Stiles. He’ll see that too, eventually.” The Sheriff coughed uncomfortably and waved Derek off. “I’m done being your soulmate’s father now. You can go back to work.”

“Thank you, sir,” Derek said gratefully, anxious to escape the office. He made a triumphant face at Tara when he returned to his desk. “No white box. Stay away from my chair.” She made a show of taking the last donut out of the box on Deputy Larson’s desk and taking a large, emphatic bite, but Derek was too emotionally exhausted to care. He didn’t know what to think about what his boss had told him. Stiles had seemed so disconnected the previous day, so weary. Derek couldn’t see him changing his mind any time soon.

As he’d learned the previous day, however, he was wrong about a lot of things.

By the time his shift was ending, the tell-tale itching in his skin alerted him to a message from Stiles. He cut short his conversation with Tara in order to run to his car, practically stripping himself out of his uniform shirt so he could see what was written on his arm.

_ My name is Mstislav. Stiles is a nickname. _

Derek stared at his arm. He had no idea what to make of the short, unexpected answer to his question.  **_I can see why._ **

_ Funny, fucker. _

**_What was I supposed to say?_ **

_ Nothing, Derek. IDK. This is weird. _

**_Is it weird that we’re still talking through skinwriting? Or weird that we’re talking at all?_ **

_ Both? I’m not even sure what to say to you now.  _

**_Why don’t we start with, do you hate me?_ **

_ Of course not. How could you think I hate you? _

**_We didn’t part on the best of terms yesterday._ **

_ JFC, Der, you blindsided me. I needed some time.  _

**_And now that you’ve had it?_ **

He didn’t respond immediately, which Derek could understand. It was a loaded question. 

The answer, when it finally came, relieved him.  _ I want to try again. Now that I’ve wrapped my head around it and can understand why you did what you did, I’m not upset anymore. I was, though. I was so fucking angry with you. Do you have any clue how shitty it felt to know you kept that from me? _

**_I didn’t do it to hurt you, Stiles._ **

_ I know, Derek. At least I do now. But you have to know how I felt. You can’t pull anything like that on me again. _

**_I won’t. I promise._ **

_ So what do you say? Second try? _

**_Why don’t you come over to my house? I’m leaving work now, and I’ll be home all night. Unless that puts too much pressure on you. If you want to meet somewhere public, I’m okay with that._ **

_ No, public didn’t work out so well last time. I’m okay with your place. Give me an hour? _

**_I’ll give you forever._ **

_ Jesus, you smooth fucker. _

Derek laughed out loud, a belly laugh that was way too intense for Stiles’ reaction, but just right for the relief he felt. He pulled out his phone and texted Stiles his address, then turned the key in the ignition and stomped on the gas. He had a lot to do in an hour.

\-----

Derek was putting the finishing touches on dinner when the tentative knock sounded. Even though he knew this time would be different, that Stiles knew and wasn’t angry and had voluntarily come to him, he couldn’t stop the racing of his heart as he checked to make sure he hadn’t gotten anything on his clothes, that his hair was cooperating, that the table looked perfect. When he was satisfied that everything was exactly how he wanted it, he inhaled a deep breath and pulled the loft door open.

Stiles stood on the other side, and Derek wasn’t sure he was going to be able to breathe. He wore dark-wash skinny jeans, a short-sleeved white button-up, and a charcoal blazer with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. A skinny tie hung loosely around his neck, the charcoal and navy diagonal stripes striking against the crisp white shirt, and his hair was spiked artfully, instead of his usual messy finger-combing.

“Jesus,” he breathed, and Stiles gave him a shy, sheepish smile. “You didn’t have to try to impress me, you know. I’m already all in.”

“Lydia suggested that I needed to start over,” he admitted, and his glance flicked behind Derek, into the loft. Derek realized he was keeping Stiles out in the hallway and stepped back, gesturing for him to come in. “We kind of fucked up our first meeting  _ and _ our first date,” he continued as he stepped inside, his hands jammed in his pockets and his shoulders hunched forward. “I wanted to make an effort to make things different this time.”

Derek had to bite his tongue to keep from apologizing again. He didn’t want to drag the whole evening down with repeated references to their rocky introduction as soulmates. “The lasagna is in the oven and the garlic bread is prepped to go in a few minutes before the lasagna is done. We have about twenty minutes,” he offered instead. 

Stiles brightened. “You’re cooking for me?”

A slight smile quirked his lips. “You’re not the only one who wanted to make an effort.”

“Time to start fresh?” Stiles asked, and Derek nodded. Stiles chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before squaring his shoulders and lifting his head. Before Derek could ask why he looked like he was about to march into battle, Stiles slipped a hand out of his pocket, grabbed Derek’s belt loop, and tugged. 

Derek found himself stumbling forward the single step he needed to close the distance between himself and Stiles. Stiles’ features softened, his eyes going half-lidded as his lips parted, barely enough to draw in a breath, and Derek nearly collapsed against him. Looping his arms around Stiles’ waist, Derek pulled him in close, and Stiles smiled beatifically as he twined his arms around Derek’s neck. “I’ve been thinking about this since the day we met,” Derek murmured, voice rough, his lips so close to Stiles’ that he imagined Stiles could feel the words more than hear them. 

“Me too,” Stiles whispered back. “Even though I had no clue who you were, I wanted you so much. But I wanted my soulmate, too, and that made me anxious about spending any time with you. I’m sorry I was such a dick.”

“We have a lot to talk about,” Derek acknowledged, his gaze dropping to Stiles’ lush mouth. “But can we do that later?”

Instead of answering, Stiles tilted his head and moved in, and finally,  _ finally _ , Derek got to know what it felt like to kiss the love of his life. His lips were soft under Derek’s, pliant, and as the kiss deepened, they turned wet and slick and hungry. Derek felt a tingle spread through him when the kiss went from tentative and exploratory to demanding, insistent, and all-consuming.

He managed to get his hands in Stiles’ hair, just as he’d imagined on multiple occasions, and he tugged. Stiles’ head tipped back, his chin dropping, and Derek slotted his mouth more firmly against Stiles’. He licked into Stiles’ mouth greedily, needing to taste him, needing to feel the slide of their tongues against each other. 

Stiles made a desperate noise into his mouth, his fingers twining in the neck of Derek’s forest-green henley, pulling him closer. Derek felt light-headed; their need for each other superceded everything, including their need for oxygen, and he didn’t care even a little. Before he passed out, Stiles broke away from the kiss, inhaled raggedly as Derek did the same, and then he dove back in, their mouths crashing back together.

After the first few desperate minutes things slowed down, gentled. Derek’s hands pulled themselves free of Stiles’ hair in order to stroke up and down his back, and Stiles nipped at Derek’s lips, dropping little kisses on them before licking into his mouth, then pulling back to press several more gentle kisses to his lips, one after another. Instead of clutching each other, they leaned in against each other, using the other to hold themselves up.

It probably took ten whole minutes before Derek was willing to separate his mouth from Stiles’. “I love you,” he confessed hoarsely, his throat tight, the words barely making it past his lips. “I have from the very start, and I’ve never wanted anything more than I wanted you, here with me.”

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles rasped, his voice strained, and Derek could tell he was holding back tears. “I knew you would, you did, but… I couldn’t trust it. No one has ever felt like that about me before.”

“I promise you, Stiles, you’ll never spend another day feeling unloved,” Derek swore vehemently. 

Stiles burrowed in against Derek, their chests nearly crushed against each other, both of them hardly breathing. “I love you, Der. More than I ever could have imagined loving anyone or anything. I don’t know what I did to be lucky enough to get you as my soulmate. I must have saved, like, an orphanage in a past life. Or a convent full of nuns.”

Derek laughed hard, wondering if his chest could literally crack from the intensity of the emotions welling within him. “If you saved an orphanage or a convent, I must have prevented a massacre or something.”

Stiles snorted, a noise so loud Derek wondered if it hurt his throat. “We’re becoming grossly, ridiculously sappy,” he teased. “I kind of love it, but it’s also really nauseating, and I don’t want to ruin my appetite for dinner.”

Chuckling, Derek finally let go and stepped back. He leaned in and dropped another kiss on Stiles’ mouth, then headed into the kitchen to slide the tray of pre-prepared garlic bread into the oven along with the lasagna, which was bubbling and browning nicely on top. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

Stiles grinned, an impish glow lighting his face and his eyes. “C’mere, then. I can think of something to occupy us for a few minutes.” Derek gladly went back into his arms, heart soaring as Stiles’ mouth claimed his once more. 

Derek had spent more than six years waiting for his soulmate, wondering if he’d ever see those magical letters forming on his skin. He’d spent another two months wondering if Stiles would ever stop being afraid enough to let his guard down, to take a chance. 

Stiles was worth every minute of the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I know Stiles' real name in canon is Mieczyslaw, but Mstislav has been my headcanon name since my fic The Road Less Traveled, and it's grown on me. (Besides, season 6 isn't canon in my mind. Stiles' name is still up to interpretation. Sheriff's name is John. Fuck Jeff Davis.)
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://cobrilee.tumblr.com/)! *waves*


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